28
Epilogue
One year later…
“Is it like you remember?” I asked, pausing with Andy to watch snow fall on the Thames, flakes falling lazily from the perpetually grey sky of my previous home city.
Snow at Christmas two years in a row.
I was glad to be back here, taking the opportunity to spend Christmas alone with him.
“Better,” Andy said, sipping his tea as he leaned on the railing. “I’m not nervous I’m gonna lose you anymore.”
“Nor should you be,” I said, hand going automatically to my coat pocket, feeling what was currently the heaviest object known to man in there.
“So now I feel like it’s okay to get excited over stupid things,” he added.
“Oh yes?” I asked, straightening up to walk away again.
I wasnotgiving this little box to Andy within smelling distance of what was, as far as I knew, the single most disgusting body of water on the planet. Certainly in the country.
“Yeah.” Andy grinned. “I’m having a lot more fun this time. Because I know that no matter what I do, we’re going back to that cute little apartment you rented and curling up in bed together.”
I couldn’t help smiling at how easily pleased Andy was by my simple presence.
Even after all this time.
“I love you,” I said, mostly because that thought had been on my mind since I decided today was the day. A Christmas gift that I hoped would be accepted, and cherished, and appreciated for what it was.
And I wanted everything to be perfect. For Andy. Always.
“Am I being weird?” Andy asked. “You always say that when I’m being weird.”
“That’s a coincidence,” I teased. “It’s just that I always love you, and you’realwaysweird.”
Andy chuckled, holding his tea close to his chest. He really had developed a taste for it.
Earlier, we’d enjoyed a quiet Christmas dinner with Father—and Mother, who had promised to be on her best behavior and give Andy a chance, now that I had, in her words, burned my entire future to the ground for him.
We’d see about her, but she had been genuinely gracious today. It had been a struggle, but today was Christmas, and it had still filled my heart with seasonal hope.
And then Father had given me the box in my pocket.
I’d asked for it months ago, when we were first planning to come here for Christmas, but suddenlyhavingit made it all feel so real.
“Hey, Kit?” He looked over at me, sipping his tea. “Love you, too.”
“I wanted, umm,” I said, scratching the back of my neck under the scarf wrapped around it. “That is, uh. I wondered. I was hoping to talk to you about…”
Damn.
Should have rehearsed what I wanted to say. Although, I likely would have forgotten it the moment I tried to get it out. Perhaps that would have been even worse.
Andy looked at me with soft, curious eyes, and no judgement at all for my inability to control my own tongue.
“Could we stop walking?” I asked, sharper than I meant to. I was frustrated withmyself, but I was afraid I’d made it sound like I was frustrated with Andy.
Except the look in his eyes didn’t change as he stopped and looked at me.
